


Struggles

by AngelQueen



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Come Eating, Explicit Sexual Content, Fingerfucking, In which Anakin and Obi-Wan blow the author's mind, Kink Meme, M/M, Male Slash, Possessive Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 08:42:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5620588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelQueen/pseuds/AngelQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Possession is forbidden. It is a tenet of the Jedi Code, a part of their creed for centuries. </p><p>Anakin has always struggled with this precept.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Struggles

Possession is forbidden. It is a tenet of the Jedi Code, a part of their creed for centuries. 

Anakin has always struggled with this precept. Perhaps his past as a slave, where he owned nothing, not even his own body, is the cause. Or the fraught, tense few months of his apprenticeship, where he was treated with wariness if not outright suspicion by nearly all save his new teacher, which made him cling all the harder to that one bit of stability. 

Obi-Wan is not blind to this aspect of Anakin’s personality. He has seen the considering glint in his eyes, felt his fingers tighten on his shoulder or arm. Anakin covets the people he is closest to, desiring to keep them close and marking them as _his_ , so that all might know and be warned against trying to take them from him. 

He has tried to help his former apprentice, reassuring him that there is nothing to fear, that he will not be replaced in his affections. It seems to ease the tension about his face, but never for long.

Never is this possessive bent more obvious than when Anakin takes Obi-Wan into his bed. He pushes him down on the mattress, careful but insistent, and follows, covering Obi-Wan’s body with his own as he pushes Obi-Wans thighs apart to settle between them. He buries his face in Obi-Wan’s neck, licking and kissing the skin there, and his hands come up to take Obi-Wan’s own. They raise them up slowly to the headboard, and in an instant, Obi-Wan’s wrists are secured in specially placed restraints.

Obi-Wan knows he could free himself in an instant, with a mere flick of the Force, but he does not. Instead, he allows Anakin to do as he wants. He lies there, focusing on Anakin’s fingers as they bury themselves in his hair just before their lips meet in a furious kiss. Their tongues duel in an age-old dance, barely parting to in a gasp of air. It is at this time that Obi-Wan can feel Anakin pushing relentlessly at his mind, seeking entrance. He slides into Obi-Wan’s thoughts, and he hears only a single word echoing through their sharing. 

_Mine mine mine mine mine –_

Anakin does not remain idle. Eventually, he pulls free of Obi-Wan’s lips and moves lower, rubbing his body along Obi-Wan’s, which draws a panting gasp from both of them. Their skin, so sensitive to each other, feels as though electricity is dancing across the cells. Anakin’s lips soon glide down Obi-Wan’s chest, murmuring a familiar word – “Mine.” – before closing over one of Obi-Wan’s nipples and suckling.

Obi-Wan closes his eyes, drowning in the sensations of Anakin’s physical movements and the melding of their minds. The desires that flow back and forth between them are heady and overwhelming, but Obi-Wan does not pull away to prevent himself from submerging. Instead he twitches underneath Anakin’s body, rutting his hard, aching length against the younger man’s thigh. 

Amusement and arousal flare through the link, and Anakin reaches down to grip Obi-Wan’s length. His fist glides up and down in a slow, lazy stroke, smearing the pre-come onto his fingers, which he then brings up to his mouth. Their eyes lock as Anakin whispers, “Mine,” before licking Obi-Wan’s come from his fingers.

Obi-Wan groans from the sight, tugging in frustration at the restraints that keep him from touching Anakin, from bringing him closer, from making them one. Anakin senses his exasperation – indeed, there can be no secrets between them, not when they are like this – gives him an indulgent smile as he slips his fingers from his mouth. Those fingers glisten now from Anakin’s saliva, and move lower, past Obi-Wan’s weeping length, past his balls, and along the parted cleft of his ass to his entrance. 

“Mine,” Anakin breathes as he breaches the ring of muscle with a single digit. It isn’t long before one finger is replaced with two, pushing into Obi-Wan’s body with slow, deliberate thrusts. He takes his time, refusing to set a much faster pace, even when Obi-Wan jerks his hips, trying to drive Anakin deeper. Three fingers replace two, and Obi-Wan cries out, reveling in the mix of pleasure and discomfort.

Anakin’s mechanical hand takes Obi-Wan’s length, now completely coated, in a gentle grip, so deceptive given the apparent strength in the metal appendage. Obi-Wan shudders from the chill of the metal, enjoying the cold that rips through his body, counterpoint to the ever-growing heat. Anakin wipes his thumb over the head, further spreading the moisture and sending shocks of pleasure through Obi-Wan’s groin. 

Obi-Wan trembles from the sensations, certain he isn’t going to last much longer and he wants to keep going, wants Anakin to take him, claim him, mark him, fuck him, _own him_ –

All of Anakin’s movements, from his fingers thrusting into Obi-Wan’s body to his stroking Obi-Wan’s length to the miniscule thrusts of his own hips, cease as he catches the thought along their bond. His eyes grow wide and he almost gapes at Obi-Wan. For several, agonizing moments, neither of them move, Obi-Wan’s arms still restrained to the headboard and Anakin’s fingers still in Obi-Wan’s ass.

The ensuing explosion of possessive lust nearly blinds Obi-Wan and suddenly he finds Anakin fully atop him again, their bodies flush together. Anakin’s mouth smashes into his and they seem to try to _swallow_ each other in the ensuing kiss. Obi-Wan chases the curious taste of his pleasure that linger in Anakin’s mouth, exploring every possible crevice. Even as he does this, he is aware of Anakin’s fingers withdrawing from his body, and he moans into Anakin’s mouth at the loss. Said moan is replaced by a keen when he feels the head of Anakin’s length pushing against the loosened muscle and then inside of him. 

_Mine,_ Anakin growls in Obi-Wan’s mind and he begins to thrust.

There is no longer any slow seduction in Anakin’s movements, but now the fast, punishing pace of a conqueror. Anakin is claiming what is his, sliding back only to slam his hips back in against Obi-Wan’s own. Obi-Wan’s length is trapped between their bodies, his pleasure dribbling over the skin of their stomachs, and Obi-Wan finds himself distracted by the white fluid glistening against Anakin’s bronzed skin.

Anakin’s fingers grip Obi-Wan’s hair and jerk his head back roughly, bringing his eyes back up to meet Anakin’s own, dark blue with lust. “Mine,” he snarls, the message of _be here focus on me_ screaming from one mind to the other. _Yes here you only you_ is the silent reply, and it satisfies him.

Anakin lets go of Obi-Wan’s hair and then moves his arms under Obi-Wan’s thighs, pushing them up so his knees press against his chest and allowing him to push even deeper into his body. He hits Obi-Wan’s prostate from this position, and Obi-Wan screams his pleasure against Anakin’s neck, waves of come exploding from his member and coating their straining bodies. Obi-Wan’s vision is consumed by a white, hot light. 

He can feel Anakin still moving over him, taking his own pleasure in Obi-Wan’s tingling, willing body. There are no longer any discernable words flowing through their sharing of minds, only sensations, feelings, and an overall sense of ownership. Obi-Wan smiles against Anakin’s neck, can feel his quest for his final release, and opens his mouth, sinking his teeth into the skin.

Anakin howls as the pain pushes him over the edge and jets of come empty into Obi-Wan’s welcoming body. _MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE_ pounds into Obi-Wan’s brain, sinking into his very soul, marking him as Anakin’s even as his clenching body claims every drop of Anakin’s pleasure.

Anakin finally collapses against him, spent. His arm is shaking as he lifts it to reach up and free Obi-Wan’s own arms from the restraints. With a click, he is loose, and Obi-Wan winces from the blood rushing fast through his veins. He wraps his arms around Anakin’s back, holding him close and not letting roll off and out of him just yet.

Now it is Anakin’s burn to bury his face against Obi-Wan’s throat, resting and trying to catch his breath. Obi-Wan looks down, sees the bite marks on Anakin’s neck. 

_Mine_. This time the word starts from Obi-Wan and ends in Anakin, and the flicker of agreement is one of joy and satisfaction.

Possession is forbidden.

Perhaps Anakin isn’t the only one who struggles with this precept.

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this for the Star Wars Kink Meme on Dreamwidth, located [here](https://starwarskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/586.html?thread=2890#cmt2890).


End file.
